One person's hell is another person's heaven.

I'm in Cancun at the moment. I feel as though I'm in purgatory.

Actually, it *is* purgatory for me.

Though being home in Portland sounds okay, there are a few things/people that I miss (toilet paper, running water, good food, among them), leaving Cuba was absolutely heartbreaking.

I can't believe there are people who actually **choose** to spend time in Cancun. Anyway ... I've already wasted too much time being here and spending words on this place.

Let's get back to my personal heaven, Cuba. (Which is in fact hell for most people who live there.)

The tickets we had for the Buena Vista Social Club turned out to be in the front row. Front and Center. It was spectacular. Omara was singing right to *me* and I could practically reach out and touch Eliades Ochoa's guitar. Miguel was like a little kid. He's grown up in Havana, but like most Cubans, had never been to the Gran Teatro. A lot of what Cuba is famous for is only accessible by tourists. There's an extreme divide - tourism apartheid. I was sooo happy I brought him along to see some of what his own city has to offer. He loved it, he grew up with this music of course, and there were various santeria dances performed that have always been a big part of his life too. His mother is actually named after Omara Portuondo. Watching his face throughout the show was one of my favorite parts.

The next day - we headed for Vinales. (This is heaven for Cubans, though many of them have never been able to travel there, even though it's just a 3 hour bus ride from Havana.) It was incredibly beautiful.

There were some legal issues (to be explained at a later date) that resulted in following several feet behind people offering their private houses (meaning houses that weren't licensed to rent to foreigners, the licenses cost nearly $200- a month regardless of if they have anyone staying in the house or not). We found a great house a little off the beaten path. We took horses up through the mountains, into tobacco fields, and then into a cave where we hiked in a bit and went swimming.

I rented a car in Vinales and drove back to Havana, giving a few Cubans rides along the way. Hitchhiking is the most common way for Cubans to get around. State vehicles are required to stop for hitchhikers - and people get incredibly resourceful for their means of transportation. I mentioned before the horse drawn carts - but there are also 2-3 people on bikes (remember riding on handlebars or seats while someone else pedalled and stood in the middle when you were a kid? well, imagine that as an adult to get to work - no es fácil).

Having the car in Havana for a while was incredibly fun. I didn't really venture that much farther than I had by foot - but it's quite an experience driving there. Many of the roads are in horrible condition and I can't believe how people race around the streets with people, horses, bikes, etc. all sharing the same space. Cars cruise by people in the street with less than an inch between the car and someones arm/foot all the time. The people in the street don't seem to be at all concerned. For me, I think I'm going to lose my balance and fall right in front of a car - so I tried to keep myself at a healthy American distance from the cars when I could.

Very few Cubans have cars. If more people *did* - it would be absolute mayhem.

Perhaps tomorrow I will bring my journal along to the internet cafe and just copy excerpts directly from that - I'm having a hard time taking myself back to Havana with the distraction of Cancun in the background.

There's so much to tell, and I don't want to forget. There's a saying in Cuba, "Coca-cola del olvido." Essentially stating that once you drink the Coca-cola (aka escape Cuba to the US) you forget Cuba. Miguel has a grandfather who has been in Detroit for about 25 years. He has 2 sons in Cuba, Pedro and Ronald. He has since remarried and has two more young sons in the states, Peter and Ronald. Coca-cola del olvido.

One thing people said to me over and over toward the end of my stay was "please don't forget us." At this point, my eyes still red and teary from the sad goodbyes at the airport earlier today, I can't imagine forgetting. But, as I've said before, this whole thing just feels like a dream. I have experienced so much in the past three weeks, I worry that it's going to slip away the way a dream does as the moments pass and you wake up. I think I still have a job, a house, a dog, an American family, a life before this one - and I'm a bit afraid to go back to it all in fear of fully waking from my dream.